Believe me now?

Sunday, November 30, 2008


Hold the phone folks. It appears that Bon Temps resident Pussy Hound has discovered his true calling. He's gonna be a freak for Jesus! Or even better - he's gonna be a freak for the Fellowship of the Sun! Hey, that's even better. Cause anytime a bunch of nutcases include the name "Fellowship" in their title, you just know it's gonna cause more trouble than tomcats on Viagra. And I did read a while back that Bon Temps is French for Good Times. Yes, that quaint little village is certainly that. What with all the murders of loose and wayward women, poor innocent grannys, poor innocent cats, and probably our favorite friend of Dorothy, Layfayette, I could see how Bon Temps earned it's reputation.

As you recall, our Mr. Stackhouse has enjoyed more random snatch than anybody in Bon Temps. I'll venture to say that the sales of Monistat has gone up considerable since Jason got his first woodie. But there has been one nagging question that I just can't seem to shake. In episode 1 when he came into Merlotte's looking for Sookie he had just been enjoying a nice fish sandwich, sans tartar sauce, courtesy of Maudette. I just need to know that he washed his face. Or at least pulled out the Oral-B and Colgate before he started to rub all up against Dawn and play the old smoochy "you know you still want me" game. Cause girls, I can tell you this. There is nothing that I can think of that conveys the "I have been pining away for you something awful" message than to get up close and personal with a face smelling like 3 day old red snapper. Yeah, that'll melt the heart of even the toughest broad. Cause nuthin' says lovin' like muffin on the muggin.. Especially if it ain't yours. And I love that look Tara gives both of them. That one-eyebrow raised up. Carrie Bradshaw can do that. I've have tried, practiced and at one point convinced myself that I had nailed it. But when I put my newfound skill to work people asked me how old I was when I was diagnosed with Tourettes.

Jason, I expect if Sis wasn't still cruisin' on the Hillbillie Heroin Highway when you came to see her, she would have nailed your ass bigtime about your newfound calling. The poor girl already knows that a bag of grits would best you in an IQ contest, but she was just so happy to see you out of jail and that she wasn't laid out at funeral parlor awaiting her turn for that really bad make-up job that a lot of the conversation just sailed on over her head. I think that in a few days she's gonna be slinging gin and tonics at Merlotte's and a lightbulb will suddenly come on over her head and she's gonna say "hey, wait a minute..........that dumb little shit has joined WHAT??" But I have to admitt that I was tickled spitless when you two made up.

But Jason, something tells me that you don't really understand what that FOS bunch is all about. You just think they sell condos down by the gulf.

Jason, you seem to be the outdoors type. I predict that there's a big hunting trip in your future. It will involve a canoe, a lot of rapidly coursing water, a bow and arrow, some banjoe music and something about a pig. Enjoy.

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